


Discreetly

by Xx_Astrid_xX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 10:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16324442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xx_Astrid_xX/pseuds/Xx_Astrid_xX
Summary: Narcissa is desperate for Sirius to stop publically tarnishing the Black name- and is willing to do anything to get him be more discreet about his unsavory life choices, even if it involved being a bit unsavory with him.





	1. The Proposition

Narcissa Black sat perfectly still, back arched properly, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in front of her, resting on the beautiful dalbergia bartop. She was tense, her taupe brow furrowed, silver eyes cold as ice, round, painted lips pursed softly, chin held high, peering straight ahead. Her long, smooth, golden hair was draped over her thin shoulders, keeping the back of her neck warm from the chill in the room. She wore a beautiful pale yellow, frilly blouse tucked into high waisted sable trousers, her feet sporting pristine gogo boots. She glanced down at her hands, gently rubbing the long, french-manicured thumb into the crook of the knuckle of her index finger.  
“Hello, Cissa,” A familiar, suspicious voice greeted her tentatively. He sounded amused, confused, and far too arrogant. The woman spun on her stool, putting her elbow on the table and leaning back, glaring daggers as she studied him, nose turning up and lip curling in distaste.  
He’d grown quite a bit since last they’d seen each other, though to be honest, Narcissa had only seen him a handful of times throughout their lives. She supposed he’d probably been at the many house parties and holiday gatherings thrown by her aunt, his mother, but she couldn’t really recall him much. The last she remembered seeing his face- though it did look quite a bit like everyone else in their, ahem, close family- was… Ten, ish, years ago? They weren’t close enough in age to have gone to Hogwarts together, were they? How old was he, exactly? Anyway… He stood probably over two meters tall, with shoulder-length, wavy black hair framing his too-handsome face. As was commonplace in the Black family, he was as pale as a person could be, with shining silver eyes, and an angelic, unbelievably attractive face. His good looks, however, were seriously down played by his presentation; he wore a loose, worn shirt boasting what Narcissa could only assume was some Muggle punk band underneath an old, thick leather jacket and tucked into horribly torn jeans. Large boots sat on his feet and his wrists were wrapped with studded leather bands, his fingers donning several rings. When he tipped his head and exhaled harshly through his nose, she looked up to notice that not only were his ears pierced, but his nose was, as well, and she nearly gagged. He looked ridiculous.  
“Sirius,” she said, tongue dripping with a sour tone. He seemed a bit less amused at her expressions.  
“Well, on with it then, dearest cousin,” He sneered out. “I must admit, I was quite surprised to be invited here, and I am more than curious to know what a vile, filthy human being such as yourself would want with me.” Sirius took a few steps closer, his wand slipping into his hand from his jacket sleeve. Narcissa tensed, glaring up at him, concern filling her. “After all, I’m sure you know I’m not too friendly with Death Eaters and I hope you would be smart enough to know I won’t make an exception just for family, even with as close as we are,” Sirius was all too close to Narcissa know, leering down at her. She stood, nose to nose with him, only a handful of centimeters shorter than him. She- quite offended and moderately worried- slipped her left sleeve up, revealing an arm without a Dark Mark.  
“Quite a bad sign that the Order doesn’t even know who is or is not a Death Eater,” She said sternly, all too aware of her close affiliation with the group via her fiance, Lucius Malfoy. Sirius glared at her, studying her face closely. Narcissa hoped dearly he did not know Legilimens.  
“What do you want, Narcissa?” Sirius said in a surprisingly soft tone, his voice deep and soothing. She felt a shiver shoot up her spine.  
“Word has it you’ve been doing a lot of… Unsavory things.” Narcissa said. “And it’s beginning to reflect badly on the family.”  
Sirius gave a dark laugh, looking away before back into her eyes, shifting, his shoulder almost brushing against her. “The family? I’m not a part of the family anymore. Mother disowned me.”  
“Do you think people care? Your actions reflect badly because you’re still tied to us by blood- by lineage. You will never really be seperate from this family, and everyone but your delusional mother- and, apparently, you- know it.” Sirius closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled sharply through his nose, bathing her jaw in hot breath. He smelled like whiskey.  
“I do what I want. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, much less your meaningless family,” Sirius said sardonically.  
“No one cares what you do, Sirius,” Narcissa replied, tiring of this conversation. “All I ask is that you be a bit more discreet about it. Have your fun doing whatever filthy things is you do- just don’t let everyone and their brother know about it. You’ll notice it will benefit you quite a bit, as well, I presume.”  
“My reputation helps me a lot as it is, Cissa,” Sirius said. “You’re wasting your time.” He turned, but she grabbed his elbow. He glared at her over his shoulder.  
“What is that I can offer you, Sirius? Money?”  
Sirius gave a cruel laugh, turning and closing in on Narcissa so fast she stumbled back, her knees hitting the stool. He sneered down at her. “I don’t need your damned money.” He growled. Narcissa tensed, breathing a bit more heavily. He wouldn’t lay a hand on her, she was certain, but it was still… Disconcerting.  
“Then what is it, Sirius? What do you want?”  
“You don’t have anything that I want,” Sirius scoffed, turning once more. Again, Narcissa gently put a hand on him.  
“Please, Sirius,” Narcissa whispered. Agitated, Sirius sighed, pausing but not even deigning to glance at her. “This family and it’s reputation mean the world to me. I know you don’t give a damn about any of us- and, maybe, you’ve been given good reason- but it’s different for me, for Regulus, and hopefully for our families. We haven’t done a thing to you. Please. Our entire family isn’t your mother.”  
Sirius tensed. Then began walking again. Desperate, she rushed in front of him, and he tilted his head back, anger apparent on his face. She put her hand under his thick coat to touch his warm chest, peering up at him, concern on her face, and after a moment he looked into her face, eyes intense.  
“Please,” she whispered. “Think about it.”  
He didn’t reply, but rolled his eyes, looking away and stepping forward. She stepped back and gripped his shirt, earning herself a glare in return. “Please tell me you’ll at least consider it.”  
With an agitated sigh and another roll of his eyes, he shrugged. “Whatever, fine. Now let me go.” She took a step to the side and watched him walk from the off-to-the side breakfast nook in her kitchen, stalking with heavy boots out the archway with Konky the House Elf scurrying after him to see him out.


	2. A Proposed Solution

Narcissa had had little faith that Sirius would at all listen to Narcissa, but this? She was downright offended, and she supposed, that had been the point.  
Because, of course, it would take fantastic stupidity or malicious intent to be caught like this. And, if Narcissa was certain of one thing when it came to Sirius Black, it was that he was full of the latter and entirely absent of the other.  
Shagging a Muggle prostitute on his motorbike in the middle of London, for all Muggles and Wizards to see. It was all anyone could take about. A moving picture was splayed on the covers of both The Daily Prophet and Witches Weekly, depicting Sirius Black, former heir of the Black family, going down on a Muggle woman right outside of the Leaky Cauldron.  
Narcissa couldn’t give a damn what he did, or with whom. It looked like both of them were quite enjoying the experience, and Narcissa wasn’t one to give a damn what others did with their lives as long as it didn’t interfere with hers. And, of course, had they done this discreetly, in private, it wouldn’t affect her at all. She could happily go along ignoring him.  
But it did affect her, and the whispers they all had, the rude questions pointed at her as if she had any say in what he did. Of course, the blame would probably best lie with the whisperers, but it was much easier to stop one person than an entire society.  
It wasn’t that he was selfish. He could do whatever he wanted, take whatever he wanted, discreetly, and benefit no less. He was spiteful. He lost absolutely nothing by pulling this lewd stunt- but Narcissa and Regulus, Bella and Andy, they did. And Sirius would rather pointedly prove he didn’t care than take the time to escort the woman to his home.  
And what was Narcissa to do? Ask him again? He probably wouldn’t even answer the invitation this time. But what other option did she have? Let him tarnish their name? That wasn’t an option at all.  
~  
Narcissa was more than out of place walking down Knockturn Alley. She’d worn her least conspicuous outfit, but truthfully, a young wealthy woman in a form fitting black cloak, large black sunglasses, and a large, fancy black witch’s cap was quite out of place in the dingy, threatening alley way.  
She strutted straight up to Markus Scarr’s Indelible Tattoos, where she’d found he worked, and walked into it, anxiety flooding the woman. The floors were blackened, charred wood, the walls grey concrete, the buzzing sound of a tattoo gun sounded. For some reason, this shop preferred the painful method of stabbing ink into its patrons’ skin rather than the pain free spell most wizards and witches preferred. From her understanding, which admittedly was minimal, through magic they could still be enchanted to move, if one wanted.  
A large bald man with bulging muscles stood behind a desk and glared at her, his arms baring naked females that danced, lots of snakes and skulls and die and other miscellaneous things. “Can oi ‘elp yew?” he asked, very much sounding as if he did not wish to help her.  
She strutted up to the desk, standing upright as usual. “I’m here for one Mr. Sirius Black,” she said softly, removing her glasses so as to see him better.  
“D’you ‘ave an appoi’mn?” He said, words barely understandable through his thick accent and slow words.  
“No, sir,” Narcissa said, pushing fist-sized sack full of galleons to him. “But it’s a bit of a family matter that’s rather important.”  
The man pulled the sack towards him, opening it and peeking in, debating. He pocketed it and walked around the corner, silently leading her to a backroom.  
Sirius lounged in a tattoo chair suckling on a joint, opening his eyes to glare at Narcissa as the bald man left, shutting the door behind him.  
“The fuck d’you want?” he asked, voice a bit slurred. He pulled the fag away to lift his other hand, holding a bottle of Crown Royal and chugging quite a bit of it.  
“There has to be something I can do to get you to act like a civil human being in public.”  
“No, not really, love,” Sirius replied, drunker than Narcissa had ever seen anyone.  
She took a step forward, eyes wide open with fury, voice low and deep with rage. “Seriously, Sirius? Shagging a whore in public? Surely you can do much better-”  
“Like what?” Sirius demanded, bolting to his feet, getting in her face. She stood her ground. “Like you and all the other stuck-up cunts in our family, your knickers all bunched up your twats, noses straight up to the sky, whining about image and propriety and all that fucking garbage? You’re just as much of a slag as she was, but a lot more expensive and way harder to tolerate.”  
Blood rushed to her face, mortified, as she shook, enraged. Her nose twitched and, after a long moment of pure hatred danced in her chest, she smacked him so hard on the face she nearly fell over, the sound resonating through the room. He audibly gasped, touching his already reddened face before looking at her, incredulous, furious. Shocked, she tensed, nostrils flaring, her anger quenched a bit but pure regret flooding her. She should not have done that.  
“Did you just hit me?” He asked, coming back to glare down at her from above, his voice sounding like he truly couldn’t believe it. She quirked her brow. “Did you seriously just fucking hit me?” He demanded, spittle hitting her chin.  
“Yes.” Narcissa replied. “I won’t let you talk to me that way.”  
They stared at each other for a long moment, Sirius incredulous and furious, Narcissa mildly frightened and quite unsure. “If you ever,” Sirius whispered. “Ever, lay a hand on me again,” his voice was deep, and cold, and shaky. Narcissa swallowed. “I will break your fucking hand,” he said softly, gripping the hand that hit him and holding it uncomfortably hard in his hand. Narcissa swallowed, then nodded, looking at his large, veiny hand holding her small, delicate one.  
“Now get out, and never speak to me again,” he whispered. She looked up at him, his face so close to hers, and so intensely furious.  
“No,” she said softly, voice breaking. He tilted his head the other way and leaned in even closer. He smelled almost disgustingly of whiskey and weed.  
“Get out!” He roared into her ear, and she tensed, eyes squeezing shut.  
“No,” she said, frightened, near tears. He pulled back.  
He grabbed her cheeks, gently, but Narcissa whimpered in fear. She grabbed his hands and looked up at him.  
“Why the fuck do you care so fucking much?” he demanded. Narcissa swallowed, opening her mouth to talk, only shaky breath escaping her lips. She was terrified. “Why are so scared?”  
Her eyebrows raised, thinking, but she only sputtered softly as tears fell out of her eyes. He seemed unsure what to do as she started freely crying, horrifying her, but then he tentatively pulled her close, awkwardly rubbing her hair. She clung to him, feeling so very odd, praying that Lucius would never find out about this. Of course, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.  
She eventually stopped crying and earnestly pulled away, wiping away her tears, desperately trying to remove the ruined eyeliner from her face.  
“Please, Sirius,” she pled again, voice stuffy. He sighed, tense.  
“Why are you crying? Why are you afraid?” He insisted. She shrugged. “You hit me, not the other way around.”  
“I know,” Narcissa said. She looked away. He touched her chin.  
“Come to my flat tonight,” Sirius slurred out. “My next client will be here soon.”  
Narcissa nodded, then composed herself, pulling on her glasses to hide her ruined makeup and stalked out, back straight, head held high, cheeks burning red.  
~  
An owl arrived with his address printed clearly on it, in London. It stated that he did not have a fireplace, so Narcissa was quite annoyed that she’d returned to her home in Wiltshire, but she supposed that she could travel somewhere else with a fireplace and then to Sirius’ house, which she did- she went to the Leaky Cauldron, where she figured she could grab a drink before catching the Knight bus.  
She sat the bar, lip curled slightly, hoping it was cleaned. Truth be told, this place certainly wasn’t somewhere she frequented… Or visited, ever. However, it made it much easier to get to Sirius’ house in the Muggle part of London, being a crossroads between the Muggle and Wizarding sides. As she sipped the cheap champagne she’d ordered, however, she wondered if it was worth it.  
She took a cursory glance around, and she nearly laughed at what she saw- Sirius, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew, drunk off their arses, devouring- something- that they had ordered. Sirius had seen her, too.  
“Pardon me, darling,” Narcissa said quietly to the bartender, who smiled her way, leaning forward to hear her better over the sounds of the bar.  
“Yes, ma’am?”  
“Is it possible I could have a room for the night?” She cooed brightly.  
“Of course ma’am,” He said brightly, and she paid for it and her drink, delighted to not have to go to Sirius’ flat. She strutted up the stairs, making sure to discreetly make eye contact with Sirius, who sipped his drink, eying her. She hoped he got the message.  
Lo and behold, he did, as not twenty minutes later, Sirius pushed open the door to see Narcissa sprawled gracefully on the bed, hair let down and jacket off, puffing a long, thin cigarette. He closed the door gently behind him, then walked forward and sat next to her legs, staring down at her nylon-wrapped shins, one atop the other.  
“I’ll admit I’m quite surprised to know what mutually-beneficial solution you might have to our predicament,” She said after a moment of silence. He sat still for a moment, eyes oddly solemn, face blank. He looked up at her then, still quiet.  
His hair was in a tight, smooth bun atop his head, and he wore ripped, white jeans and a loose black shirt, a chunky black sweater tied around his waist with metal chains connected to it. He pulled off his boots and set them in a line beside the bed, popping one sock into one, the other into the other, then slipped off Narcissa’s heels. Curiously, she watched him as he set them carefully next to his, then tapped each one of her white-painted toenails. He was quite odd.  
“Sirius?” She asked after a moment. Was he still drunk? He looked at her, eyes full of… Sadness? No, not quite. She frowned, concerned. “Are you alright?”  
He stood then, dropping the sweater and pulling off his shirt, revealing lithe, smooth abdomen, and then he gently took her cigarette and ground it into the ashtray. She was suddenly quite aware of his intentions. He leaned forward, and they looked at each other for a long moment.  
“Well?” he asked blankly after a moment. She closed her eyes to think.  
She was a virgin. She’d had three kisses, all brief, all emotionless, all with her fiance. She’d never been touched, always sort of dreaded intimacy. But, all of the intimacy in her head was passionless, dull, only once or twice, to consummate a marriage and produce an heir. And Narcissa assumed this would be quite different than that- would it feel good? Would he care about pleasuring her? Her face burned scarlet. He wasn’t- he wasn’t sick, was he? No, he’d tell her… Right? Of course. She opened her eyes to study him, a beautifully sculpted man, so close to her, his heating radiating off and tingling her cheeks.  
“I… Don’t know,” She whispered, looking up at him, face almost… Vulnerable.  
“I won’t make you,” he said softly. She smiled gently.  
“I know,” she replied. She rose to her knees on the bed, pulling his face close to hers. Their noses touched, her hands on his cheeks. He leaned forward, eyes closing, open mouth gently grazing her as he put his arms around her, chest pressing against hers, torso molding fluidly against her, pushing a knee up to her groin, her dress rolling up her waist. She swallowed, flushing cherry red, leaning her head back. His hot mouth met her throat, kissing and suckling gently, and she moaned softly. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, keeping him close to her. She heard the mouth sounds as he hungrily attacked her throat, heat igniting in her lower abdomen. She gasped and whimpered and cooed before Sinking onto her back, biting her lip as he stared directly into her eyes, watching as he slipped her black dress off of her, greedily eyeing her body covered only by a bra, panties, nylons, and a see-through chiffon slip. He pulled that off her as well, and it tingled her skin as he did, making her shiver. He bent her leg up and left a trail of kisses from her ankle to her upper thigh, then to her groin, over her underwear. Her mouth was agape and her face was hot, her groin throbbing with anticipation of his mouth. He met her eye again and ripped her nylons, earning a gasp, then he slipped two large, warm fingers straight into her. She watched him with heavily lids as she cooed, having to consciously stop herself from bucking desperately into his hand as he stretched her, knuckle deep in her. His lips found hers finally and they drank from each other, his thumb kneading her clitoris as two of his fingers fucked her, as he growled into her mouth. She felt drunk and dead and oh, so alive by the time he pulled away, leaving her to whine in protest as he also removed his fingers. She panted as he yanked off his own trousers and pants- revealing his seemingly large, thick, completely erect member- before pulling off her panties and undoing her bra. Her hard nipples met the cool air before being warmed by his chest as he kissed her once more. She bit his lip and mewled into him, stomach burning with desire as she wrapped her legs around him, still mostly covered by nylons, and grinding her core up against his warm, thick cock.  
“Have you decided, then?” He muttered as he began to kiss along her jaw.  
“Take me,” she whimpered. He grinned arrogantly, pulling back and putting a hot hand on her cheek, rubbing her bottom lip with his thumb before she pulled it with her tongue into her mouth, suckling on it. He watched, seemingly pleased, before speaking.  
“Ask me nicer than that, dear cousin,” he said softly. She closed her eyes.  
“Please, Sirius,” she said, entirely unsure what to say. “Please take me.”  
“Take you where?” He teased.  
She blushed and whined in response, frustrated, and he chuckled into her cheek. “For someone trying to get what they want- two things they want, actually, which is quite unfair- you’re awfully uninvolved,” he stated, and before she could reply, he pulled back and easily speared into her, and she gasped loudly, breathing heavily as he lay there entirely still, buried to the hilt within her.  
“Oh… God…” she managed, full, sore, and so utterly soaked. She pulled him closer and they held onto one another tightly as she adjusted. After a moment, though, he began to jackhammer into her and she breathed hard and fast, biting down on his shoulder so as to not scream out.  
He spread her legs and somehow filled her even more, moaning softly and breathing hard, face calm and focused, and so utterly sexy. She continued to try desperately to keep quiet, and pulled his fingers into her mouth to suckle on them, muffling her aroused noises and giving her something to do. He watched her before fingering her mouth. She felt like she was melting.  
He fucked her long and hard, until he had to use his entire palm to keep her quiet, thrusting into her, and staring down at her with those sexy eyes. She felt wonderful, earth shattering bursts of pleasure more than a few times, quaking into him and growing more desperate for him after each. After a while, long after the sun had set and the noises from the bar had ceased, he exploded within her, thrusting until so much of it poured out of her before pulling out and collapsing on her, covered in sweat, breathing heavily. She peppered his head with kisses, pulling his hair loose to bury her finger in it, play with the sable strands. He quickly fell asleep, face on her bare chest as she eyed him, still high from the wonderful love he’d made to her.


	3. (Unnamed Third Chapter)

When Narcissa awoke, she was cold and bare and felt worn out, sore. She blinked groggily, yawning, grinding her knuckles into her eye and cursing as she got leftover makeup in it, eyes watering for a long time. Annoyed, she blinked hard several times only to see that she was not at home, in her bed, and then it came rushing back to her; she was at the Leaky Cauldron. She’d seen Sirius last night- she’d been with him, last night. Her face burned crimson as she frantically pulled her dress back on, disposed on the side of the bed, and slipped into her heels. No evidence of Sirius remained, except for the remnants of him on her thighs. She had to get home and clean herself, she thought, rushing down the stairs, handing Tom back the key to her room, and hurrying through the fireplace to her house.  
Lucius was lounging on the sofa, sipping wine from a glass. He looked at her, surprised and concerned, and she turned even redder.  
“Cissa, are you alright? What on Earth happened?” Lucius asked, sitting up. She was acutely aware of the ripped nylons sagging on her legs and her unkempt hair and horribly messy eyeliner.  
“Muggle thugs,” she bluffed quickly. “But they didn’t do anything to me. I-I got away,” she said, hoping her stammering made her seem more shaken than dishonest.  
He sat there, chewing on that, before standing and touching her face. “Filthy swine, they are,” he said coldly. Narcissa swallowed. He turned, cursing. “Don’t you know to be careful? What on earth were you doing where they could get you?”  
Narcissa said nothing at first, earning her an exasperated sigh.  
“You’re not to go out without me again, do you understand?” He snapped. She looked up at him, silent. “Without me, or Bella, or Roddie. Do. You. Understand?” He demanded, stalking forward. She nodded, jaw tense.  
“Yes, Lucius. I understand.” She said softly. “I need to- clean up. If you’ll excuse me.”  
He nodded, flicking a wrist to wave her away. She rushed up the staircase and into her room, white and baby blue and silver and gold. She closed the double doors and sighed outwardly, relieved, sagging onto her bum. How dare he, come here into her home, drink her wine and dirty her glasses without her, and demand things of her? She let out a disgruntled noise and buried her nose into her knees, suddenly very aware of her ruined tights and the warm, soft sensation between her legs, remnants of the sex that had ended not too long before then. What time is it? When had they finished? Would he take her again, or was that all he’d wanted? She supposed she really was a slag.  
Angry at herself for thinking that- she could do whatever she pleased!- she pushed herself to her feet and kicked off her shoes, stripping as she walked into her bathroom and turning the water on, sitting on the edge of the bath in her nylons as it filled with steaming hot water. She added bubbles and salts and lit candles with her wand, drawing the blinds, summoning a pretty song that sang in the air. She sunk into the tub, rubbing her still-wrapped thighs. She sunk down until everything but her face was buried in the hot water, closing her eyes and sighing pleasantly.  
She could still feel his touch, taste his mouth, hear his voice as he teased her. Her lower stomach began to dance with heat once more. She saw his face, his expression intense, framed by his silly hair. She reached down and tentatively touched herself, sighing happily once more. Her fingers swirled slowly, then faster, then faster still, until she came, biting her lip and arching her back. She lay there for a moment more before finally getting to scrubbing her face clean, then climbing out of the tub and drying off, rubbing her favorite, cherry-scented elixir on her face and donning a bathrobe, moving to her bhed to lounge as the elixir worked on her face. She was nearly asleep when she heard a rapping on her door. After a tense moment, she decided to ignore it, pretending to be asleep. Several moments later, the door opened, and it took all her will not to tense, agitated. How dare he come into her room without permission!  
“Cissa?” Lucius’ grating voice rang out. She ignored him, breathing softly, deeply. He sighed and closed the door, though which side of it he was on, she knew not. When she heard footsteps walking away, however, she sighed and turned on her side, away from the door, a rich air of dissatisfaction filling the room. She reluctantly stood to wash off the elixir so as to possible go to sleep for real, exhausted after last night.  
~  
Sirius sat on his bed in the dark room, loudly eating some pizza rolls. He felt oddly fine, in his pants in the warm room, barely well-lit enough to see the plate that rested atop his folded knees. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, though every once in a while he could see Cissa’s face twisted in divine ecstasy or hear her hungry, wild moans, her small tits crushed under his big, greedy hands. She’d tasted lovely, like soda pop and cigarettes and maraschino cherries.  
He had nothing to do tonight. He’d had to get to work early this morning, leaving a sleeping Cissa sprawled on the bed, though it had been tempting to fuck her again, feel her tight, silken insides against him. He’d gotten back an hour ago, and he wished one of his friends were free… But, of course they weren’t. He didn’t feel like being around anyone else, so when he was stuffed full of the greasy rolls, he lay back and stared at the ceiling, dull, for a long time.  
A knock sounded on the door, but he didn’t feel like opening it. Another, harsher knock. More silence.  
“Open the door!” An agitated voice, a woman, demanded.  
“Open it yourself,” he grunted. The door creaked open.  
Ciss stood there, hair done in a tight bun atop her head, wearing a blue summer dress and white nylons. Sirius watched her as she peered around, lip curled slightly, and he felt a pang of agitation.  
“What do you want?” He snapped, and she quickly came in and shut the door behind her, walking towards him. The floor was littered with laundry and the bed had a plate full of now-cold pizza rolls. Deeply uncomfortable, she glanced him over.  
She tentatively picked up the plate and set in on the nightstand, then cautiously sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him almost expectantly. He watched her, emotionless, as she gave him a small, awkward smile before looking away. How odd she was. She put her small, open hand gently on his stomach, rubbing the skin gently with her thin thumb. She looked at his face again and leaned over him, face close to his, and they met eyes.  
He didn’t move, but watched her as slinked on top op him, straddling, dress pushed up around her waist. She pulled it up over her head, and delightedly, Sirius noticed the only other thing she wore were her translucent white tights. Finally enticed, he put his hands on her thighs, rubbing the fabric.  
Her hands found his mouth and she traced his lips as she bit her own. He kissed her thumb and she rested her forehead on his, then kissed him, and he kissed back, hard. She ground against him and he felt himself stir in his pants. One of his hands went to grip her bum, the other to tease her small, peach nipples.  
Suddenly, he flipped her over and she gasped, watching gleefully as he kissed across her jaw, down her throat, over her breast, down her thin stomach and began to devour her through her nylons, easily tasting her, and she cooed. After a moment, he ripped the tights, burying his face in her core and drinking from her. She moaned loudly and writhed, hands clenching his hair and humping his face. He twiddled with her clit with his thumb and she all but purred. He pressed his fingers into her until she came. Then, the pulled back and pulled himself out, reclining and motioning for her to return his favor.  
Tentatively, eyes filled with sexual curiosity, she lay on her belly in between his open legs, gently taking hold of him before enveloping him in her mouth. She suckled him inexpertly, but her soft, hot mouth felt good nonetheless, her small, quick tongue darting back and forth and swirling around her. He released in her mouth, and she gingerly spat it out. He laughed softly at her sour expression, and she looked up at him sheepishly. He flicked a bit off her lip and she stuck her tongue out at him.  
She crawled up and curled into him, and indifferent to it, he closed his eyes, letting her pull the covers over them.


End file.
